Page 23 of Tormenting Me

I order a whisky neat and sit at the far end of the bar. Just so I can watch this motherfucker. He talks to himself, shouts at the television that’s playing the Giants game, then orders another beer.

“H-hold that thought, Larry,” he holds his finger up to the bartender. “I’ve gotta take a piss.”

Sean Murphy gets up and stumbles his way to the back of the bar, to the bathrooms. I pay my tab and slide my drink to where Layne’s father was sitting. I follow him back and when I open the door, her dad’s leaning with one hand on the wall, holding himself up as he pisses in the urinal. Pushing past him to get to the stall, I brush his shoulder, slipping the tracking dot in his open jacket pocket.

“S-sorry, lad,” he hiccups.

“No worries.” I say, closing the door behind me.

I wait for him to leave and I pull out my phone and make sure the tracker works.

The dot glows and a grin spreads across my face. “Gotcha motherfucker.”

The satisfaction of finding Layne’s father is the icing on the cake. When I am confident that the tracking device is functioning perfectly, I exit the stall to wash my hands. Leaving the dive bar behind, I step out onto the street, my mind racing with thoughts of justice for Layne. The stench of the bar lingers on my clothes, but I push past it, fueled by the need to make sure this piece of shit suffers for the pain he caused my girl.

My girl.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see some of our diamonds, sir? Those are the traditional engagement rings.” The jeweller asks as I peruse the rows of emerald gemstones.

Fuck tradition. I want something I know Ma Petite Mort is going to love and enjoy wearing. She isn’t a traditional girl. It’s one of the things I love about her. I’ve been looking at the case of rings for well over forty minutes, and this is the second jewellery shop I’ve been to. I want it to be perfect.

“Nah, lemme see that one there.” I point to the princess cut, emerald set in a white gold band at the way back.

He pulls it out and hands it to me. It’s perfect.

Just like her.

“This is it. I’ll take this one.” I hand it back to him, a smile on my face.

Time to ask this girl to be my wife. I’m just praying she says yes.

Chapter seventeen

Layne

The apartment feels emptier now that Wes isn’t here, his absence leaving a void in every corner. A part of me wanted to cancel my plans with Atlas and skip the concert to stay with him but Wes convinced me otherwise. He dropped me off after fucking me more times than I thought was humanly possible, leaving me sore in the most exquisite ways. I don’t know how I am going to explain the situation with Wes to Atlas. So much has transpired in the past twenty-four hours.

I head to my dresser and start pulling out things to wear to the show, settling on a weathered In Flames shirt, a short black skirt, fishnets, and my black combat boots. Two French braids hold my hair, creating a sleek look that reaches my lower back. I have about an hour until doors open, so I order a ride share and shoot Atlas a text.

Layne: I should be there in 20 minutes. Waiting for the car to get here.

Atlas: I’m picking up the tickets from Will Call right now. See you when you get here. We get to skip the line, thanks to Sky.

Layne: Fuck YEAH!

Atlas always has the best hook-up with tickets. I guess it pays to fuck a show promoter. Sky is a pretty cool guy all the times I have met him. I grab my bag off the kitchen counter, my eyes drift over to my knife harness on my bed. There is a sense of unease without it, but the ample security measures there always are at concerts ease my concerns.

You’ll be okay Layne!

I take my phone back out and send Wes a text.

Layne: Is it sad for me to say I miss you? Too clingy/cheesy?

Wes: If that’s the case, I regret not dragging you to the courthouse today.

Wes: Have fun, Ma Petite Mort. Not too much fun, though. Never know who will be watching.

Such a stalker. I can’t say that it doesn’t make my pussy ache, thinking that he may be there. Hidden in the darkness, watching me enjoy myself. Just as my mind conjures up all the dirty thoughts of what he could do to me, my phone rudely interrupts me with a notification that my ride has arrived. I lock up my apartment and head down to the waiting car.

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